


Quill

by NobodyKnowsWhoIAM



Series: Max [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Brotherly Love, Brotherly Name Calling, Crying, Gen, HGTV, Middle Naming Someone, Misunderstandings, Nap Time, Non-Sexual Age Play, Pacifier - Freeform, Snow, Texture Sensitivities, Toddler, Toddler Logic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23692687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NobodyKnowsWhoIAM/pseuds/NobodyKnowsWhoIAM
Summary: Max gets to experience snow, but only for a little bit.
Relationships: Britton & Clint, Britton & Max, Daddy & Max
Series: Max [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1697317
Kudos: 20





	Quill

It was winter. It was cold. There was snow covering the ground. Several inches of the white powder was coating the main part of the back yard, with drifts along the fence measuring at least a foot deep. And there was a little boy, smack in the middle of it all, running around and giggling and  _ not wearing his coat _ . 

Britton was pretty sure the vein in the middle of his head was throbbing. He knew for a fact that Max had been wearing a coat when they ventured outside. Britton had zipped it up himself. Adjusted the hood, velcroed all the velcro, snapped the zipper protector snap. He had scraped two feet of the back patio clear of snow before looking up to take in the heartwarming sight of a little boy enjoying the first real snowfall of the season. Which was immediately made less heartwarming by the lack of outerwear.

“Maximus Flint! Where is your coat!” Britton dropped the shovel and stomped his way over to where the boy had been excitedly uncovering the outside toys that had been hidden by the damp powder. At least Max still had his gloves on.

The child in question froze at the sound of his full first and middle name. Daddy so rarely called him Maximus, and Maximus Flint meant time out corner for sure. He slowly raised his hand and pointed a shaky finger towards the play-set across the yard. “I didn’t lose it, Daddy. I put it safe on the bar. See?”

Britton tugged at the gloved fingers that were trying to slide into the little mouth and held his boy’s hand as they walked over to retrieve the coat. Britton picked it up and went to thread the small arms through the sleeves when he realized the coat was still zipped, velcroed, and snapped. “Maxie, how in the world did you get your coat off?”

Max shrugged his small shoulders. “I pulled and it popped off. It doesn’t like me to wear it, Daddy. It wants to play on the bars.”

“Hmm. That’s interesting to me, Maxie,” Britton got the coat open and wrapped it around the boy. “Because, look at how much it loves to give you a hug! I think that this coat doesn’t want to come off until it’s time to go back in. It needs a Maxie hug to stay nice and warm since it’s cold outside today.”

The small face scrunched up as the coat was again fastened securely. With the level of seriousness that only a toddler can master, Max placed a hand on top of his daddy’s arm, “Daddy, if Coat is cold, he can go inside and play. It’s warm there. I stay out here and play. We both can be happy!” He started jerking his arms around inside of his coat, trying to pull them out of the sleeves and in towards his middle, demonstrating how he’d manage to escape the coat the first time.

Britton had to smile a little at the logical solution presented by Max, but carefully held the boy’s hands so they couldn’t slip through the sleeves. “Max, if you take this coat off again, you’ll be going inside and spending some time in the corner. It’s too cold to be outside without a coat on. Daddy’s wearing his coat, see? And you saw Uncle Clint put his on before he left. Everyone wears a coat when there’s snow. It’s a rule.”

The boy’s face crumbled. “No, Daddy, no coat!” Tears started rolling down red cheeks. “Hate it. Hate, Coat! He’s mean, and, and, and, hurt my feelings, Daddy! Want off! Take it off! Off!” Max attempted to grab the sleeves with his gloved hands and pull them away from his body.

Carefully wiping away most of the tears, Britton decided this was a conversation best had in the warmth of the house and out of the apparently hated, and somehow mean, coat. He scooped Max up and quickly carried him to the enclosed back porch where he set the still sobbing boy down on the bench and carefully removed his snow boots and coat. The boots were set in a tray beside his own but the coat was brought inside. The still sobbing boy was led to the couch and was wrapped up in a warm, soft blanket before being pulled onto Britton’s lap.

Max was able to relax a little bit when the coat came off, and even more after feeling the soft blanket around him and Daddy’s hand rubbing his back. His cries slowly tapered off as his daddy gently rocked. He tried to get his hands untangled from the blanket, wanting to feel the reassurance of having his fingers in his mouth, but Daddy had wrapped him too tightly for that. Daddy must have been reading his mind though because a pacifier was held to his lips and he took it in and started suckling.

After waiting for the body in his lap to loosen up, Britton decided it was time to figure out what had gone wrong. “Maxie, why is your coat mean?”

“It just is, Daddy. Mean, mean, mean.”

“Okay, okay, Baby. Daddy’s confused because I thought you liked one. It was the only one that was orange and blue. I thought you liked the way it squished when you squeezed it.”

“Do, Daddy.” Max let the pacifier drop onto his lap as he stared at the coat laid out on the couch beside him. “Squishy coat tricked us. Thought it was nice, but then it turned mean.”

“How? What did it do that was mean?”

Max turned his gaze to his daddy. “It poked me, all over my arms,” the tears started welling back up and his lips started trembling again, “like the mean doctor!”

“It...poked...you,” Britton was more than a little confused by this revelation. Max had gone to the doctor recently. They all had, in order to get their flu vaccination. And the lightbulb switched on. “Your coat poked you like the doctor did to give you medicine?” A nod. “Huh.” Britton was a loss for an explanation. “Okay. Well, we’ll just leave the coat here for now and deal with it later. How about you and I have cuddle time before nap time.”

Max nuzzled his face into his daddy’s shoulder. “Not in trouble? Daddy said ‘Maximus Flint.’ Maximus Flint means time out corner, Daddy.” Max had deepened his voice as best he could to imitate his daddy saying his name.

“Usually ‘Maximus Flint’ does mean some thinking time for you, but this time, I think cuddle time would work better. So no, not in trouble.” Britton popped the pacifier back into his little boy’s mouth and carefully unwrapped the blanket, before leading the way to Max’s bedroom for nap time.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

Britton had stayed long enough for Max to settle into a deep sleep. He carefully maneuvered his way out of the now lax grip on his shirt and out of the room, heading back to the couch to stare at the coat. Which is exactly how Clint found him when he returned from whatever adventure he’d been on with his friends.

“What did that coat do to you, man?” Clint asked as he flopped on the other end of the couch and kicked his socked feet up on the coffee table.

“Feet off,” Britton said absently, before picking up the coat to show it to his younger brother. Clint rolled his eyes before doing as he was told. “Apparently, this coat was ‘mean’ to Max.”

“How in the world can a coat be mean?”

“By poking him all over his arms like the mean doctor that gave us the flu vaccines a couple of weeks ago. We were outside earlier. I was going to shovel snow off the patio and sent Max out to play in the snow. I looked up about a minute or two later and he’s running around coatless. Just as happy as can be, but still. It’s too cold for that.”

Clint cringed at the mention of the shots they had gotten. Max had been less than impressed with the experience and had cried, quite loudly, all the way home and then for a few hours afterward. “This is the one he had a blast squeezing at the store right, said it was super super squish or something?” Clint grabbed one of the sleeves of the coat and stuck his hand through the wrist hole and up into the sleeve. He flopped his arm back and forth inside the sleeve before leveling an unimpressed look at his older brother. “You are an idiot. Did you have him put the coat on before you bought it?”

“Hey! What? No. Just grabbed on his size and moved on. We were in a hurry.”

“Britt, I love you bro. But you are dumb. This coat is filled with down.” Britton just nodded, not understanding. “You bought Max, a kid who can’t even stand the tags on his shirts, a coat filled with down. Small feathers.” 

Britton just nodded again so Clint decided he probably should speak slower and with smaller words until his brother caught on. “Feathers have quills, Britt. Even the small ones. Quills that can go through fabric and poke the skin of a texture sensitive child.” Clint could see the light of understanding finally starting to show in his brother’s eyes. “So you basically bought Max a torture device and then probably freaked out on him when you caught him not wearing it.”

“Okay, whoa. Torture device is a little extreme! And I did  _ not _ freak out.”

Clint raised an eyebrow. “You, Mr. Control Freak, Mr. Mother Hen, can honestly tell me that you did not full name the child in question when you saw him, in the snow, without a coat on?”

Britton rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t  _ full _ name him. Just first and….middle.”

Clint laughed at his embarrassed brother who took the opportunity to shove him off the couch. “So what are you going to do with the torture device?” Clint asked from his new position on the floor.

“I guess we’ll donate the  _ coat _ and go shopping for a better one.”

“Okay. I’m coming with you this time, though. You apparently cannot be trusted to go coat shopping. Uncle Clint will save the day, as usual.” Clint laughed again as Britton lightly shoved the younger man’s head to the side before tossing the coat aside and picking up the tv remote and powering the device on. 

“Just for that, Punk, I’m choosing the channel. And I’m feeling a desperate need to catch up on all things HGTV.” It was his turn to laugh as Clint groaned in dismay and defeat.


End file.
